Disclaimer: All credit to JK Rowling for characters and locations and everything but my words! (this one applies to the whole story ok)
A/N: This is just one of the many plot bunnies I've been playing with, but it happens to be the first one I've published. I'm a full-time student so I might not be able to update as often as I'd like. Reviews can help for faster updates, though (hint hint)! Thanks for reading, hope you like it!
The war between the Light and the Dark. We'd all known it was coming for ages. Decades, really. But not a one of us could guess the impact it'd have on each of us. The visions haunted me, impeccably realistic. I could hear the echoes of tortured screams, the whimpers of the injured; smell the burning remnants of the castle, the bitter coppery tang of blood that coated the floors. I still saw the grief-stricken faces of mourners. The determined, lifeless faces sprawled across the grounds floated before my eyes. I remember seeing faces I knew, and worse, faces I didn't. Guilt engulfed my body as I saw the dead bodies. Why wasn't I one of them? Why couldn't I just let myself go? Instead, I had been cowardly and ignorant. I had thought there would be a reason to live after the war was over. I'd let hundreds perish because I couldn't save them. Because I'd been afraid. Because I'd been so damn persistent.
Looking back, I'm considered a hero. Yeah, right. What a bloody hero I am. See, the war didn't go exactly as it's recorded. And, as much as I wish it were true, I didn't marry Ron. Sometimes you have to say what you know society wants to hear, and other times you're forced by the Ministry not to let any details about the truth loose. You can guess which situation we were in. Only a select handful of us who know the real story are still alive. All of us stayed extremely close, perhaps because of our mutual disliking for the Ministry, perhaps because we had saved each other's life countless times.
/Flashback/
As I sat, watching Harry dig a grave without magic for a house-elf, I felt my heart swell fondly. I knew my S.P.E.W. propensities would catch on, even if years later. Harry's face was streaked with dirt, hair plastered to his forehead by a thin sheen of sweat. I wanted to hug him, to comfort him, to tell him everything would be okay. Instead, I sat a few feet behind him, watching him push the sharp blade of the spade into the rough ground repeatedly. Something about watching him labor made me sad. I watched him sullenly digging for what seemed like, and very well could've been, hours. I knew he was grieving for the elf, Dobby. The only sound was the crashing waves and Harry's weighted breathing. I knew I should've obeyed Fleur and allowed myself to be treated. I was light-headed and weak but I knew Harry needed my silent support. As it got lighter, Ron and Dean came out of Bill and Fleur's cottage with worried expressions. I knew they were concerned he was overexerting himself. I was, too. I also understood this was something he needed, as closure for many of the deaths in his past.
Wordlessly, Ron and Dean grabbed spades and assisted Harry. I was angry he'd let them help but not me. I stood up to insist he let me help as well, but then everything went black. As I fell to the ground, my groggy mind could only thing. I would miss Dobby's funeral.
/End Flashback/
I was sitting in the library, Madam Pince's eyes following my every move sternly. I guess she'd noticed I hadn't read a word of my Arithmancy text in the last 15 minutes. My eyes were bloodshot and alarming blue bags hung under my eyes from the lack of sleep. I shut my large text with a thump, standing up quickly. Ginny, who was sitting across the table from me, looked up with a startled expression.
"Hermione? Where are you going?" she inquired.
"I just…can't be here anymore," I muttered, shoving my study materials into my bag and slinging it over my shoulder carelessly.
"Wait," Ginny said, shutting her books and standing. "I'll come with you." I smiled thinly. She hurried to catch up with my brisk pace.
"What is it, Hermione?" Ginny asked as we neared the Gryffindor common room.
"What do you think?" I snapped. I realized my fists were clenched tightly and loosened my grip slightly.
"You were thinking about Ron again," It was a statement. I nodded.
"How are you handling his – this all so well?" I burst, spinning to face her.
Ginny's eyes immediately narrowed."I know you lost your love that day, but I lost not one but two brothers. How dare you think I'm not mourning? How dare you say I don't miss them?" she whispered fiercely. "Every night I cry myself to sleep. When I can sleep, Ron and Percy fill my dreams. Mum and Dad hardly say a word these days, and Fred and George are thinking about closing the shop. Fred thinks it's his fault because Percy dove in front of the bloody Killing Curse," Ginny stared at me bitterly.
I looked at my feet ashamedly. "I'm sorry, Ginny. It's hard for all of us. I know everyone has the nightmares. I just…miss him," I whispered. Ginny nodded. I sighed. It wasn't fun being a hero, I thought sarcastically.